Nature of a Soul
by acacia59601
Summary: Carlisle always found it difficult to explain how he knew he had a soul. He too, had doubted until a conversation with a friend helped bring things into perspective.


Carlisle always found it difficult to explain how he knew he had a soul. He too, had doubted until a conversation with a friend helped bring things into perspective.

He'd been a vampire for a little over fifteen years when he met Fr. Claude de la Colombiere. Each day was filled with bitterness, self-loathing and the ever-present thirst. Once he could control his thirst to the point where he could safely encounter humans and sate his appetites on animals instead, he had found work in various graveyards as a night watchman. He'd smiled bitterly as the old man who he replaced regaled him with tales of spooks and creatures of the night. _Let them do their worst, _he thought to himself. W_hat more could they do to me, soul-less parasite that I now am?_

He found he came to like working the graveyard guard duty. He liked the quiet, and it formed a perfect foil for his need to avoid the sun. No one expected a man who worked all night to be out and about during the day time. There was plenty of time for reading whatever new books he managed to afford on the actually quite reasonable wages he was earning. It was amazing what you could afford when you didn't need to buy food...

He'd been working as night guard for the York family graveyard for nearly three months when the new Catholic priest moved into the adjacent rectory. The gossip from the day guard was that the pious Duchess of York had sent to France for a new personal priest. Mildly curious, Carlisle had asked "Why France?"

Puffed up with his own importance in the illicit knowledge, the day guard had responded that, "France is neutral, and won't have an interest in the local politics. Her ladyship can be confident that whatever she says in confessional won't end up in her enemies' ears!"

Carlisle had patiently agreed and then went back to his book, putting the conversation to the back of his mind. He always worked the night shift and the only people he ever encountered were the occasional gang of young men intent on mischief. The small hut that served as guardhouse was simple with only a rough table, a chair, and a small fireplace, so it wasn't truly a place for entertaining.

He was caught by surprise early that night, when he heard the echo of light but firm footsteps coming his direction from the rectory attached to the graveyard and church. He had to make himself wait to turn until the other man was close enough that a normal human would have heard the approaching footsteps.

The priest was tall, with black hair and piercing dark brown eyes. He was young for such an important post, no older than 35. Carlisle could hear the man's heartbeat from half the courtyard away. He mentally braced himself for the sweet aroma of the human blood to hit him, but found that the scent was thankfully downwind.

"Good evening," the priest greeted him. He had a light French accent, but spoke very good English. Perhaps that was the reason he had been chosen for this position. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Carlisle blinked. Of all the things he had expected the strange priest to ask him, sharing a cup of tea was not one of them. "Um, no thank you," he stammered, still a little taken aback.

"Ah, it's quite all right," the priest said, seeming un-offended by the vampire's refusal. "I simply thought I'd introduce myself, as I now live in the rectory and we are going to be seeing each other often. I'm Fr. Claude de la Colombiere, her ladyship's new confessor."

"Carlisle Cullen, the night guard," he replied. Then, remembering his manners, he said, "Would you like to come in?"

"Certainly," Fr. Claude said, stepping into the little hut. With that first step started a truly unique friendship.

The two men found they had much in common and just as much that they disagreed upon. Carlisle was not Catholic and after several religious discussions that nearly turned into arguments, Fr. Claude decided to stop trying to convert him. For now at least...

They found a shared passion for chess and as often as twice or thrice a week the priest would bring his chess set to the guardhouse and they would play until at least midnight. It was over one of these chess games that Carlisle finally had the courage to broach a subject that had been haunting him since he'd first awoken to his new vamipiric life in an abandoned cellar.

"Fr. Claude," he asked tentatively, as he moved his knight. "What can cause a man to lose his soul?" He had to be careful. The last thing he needed was for his new friend to realize he was a creature of the night, a blood-drinking vampire.

The priest looked up, curiosity coloring his wise eyes. "Well, only one thing can truly cause you to turn your back on God and condemn yourself to the fires of hell, and that's intentional mortal sin without repentance. A better question would be, what makes a man soulless? A soulless creature is one who walks this earth with no connection to mankind or God. He kills without remorse, takes what he wishes and has no conscience that tells him that what he does is wrong. He does not believe in God because he is his own god."

Carlisle shifted in his seat, remembering the vampires he and his father had hunted when he was still human. Their actions showed them to be truly soulless. "Can someone take your soul from you?" he asked quietly.

"No," Fr. Claude replied firmly. "You can only lose your soul through your own choice to turn away from humanity and turn to evil. Your actions are what define you, Carlisle, not what is done to you."

It felt as though a hole inside of him had been suddenly filled. A piece of his heart that had been missing since he'd awoken from three days of torment to his new life was back where it belonged. He felt like shouting for joy in the knowledge that God could not have abandoned him, that there was still hope even in this changed existence. He _was_ still like other men, striving each day to be the best person he could be, and his actions still had meaning. He felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards the man. A gratitude whose depth extended straight to his soul—the soul that Fr. Claude had so effortlessly managed to restore with a few moments worth of words.

"I think I understand now," Carlisle managed to say, attempting to keep his voice from shaking. He must have succeeded, for the priest simply moved a chess piece and smiled at him.

The end.

Please review, I've never done Twilight before!!

Author's note: St Claude de le Colombiere was an actual person and Catholic saint. He was French but did serve as the Duchess of York's personal confessor at the time Carlisle would have still been in England. For more information on him as a historical figure, see Wikipedia.


End file.
